


All We Need is Some Relief (Through These Hard Times)

by wherehopelies



Series: If You Want, We'll Share This Life (When Nobody Understands You, Well, I Do) [3]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Ghost Hunting, Pining, beca has a sword, some morbid stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-03-31 02:37:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13965543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherehopelies/pseuds/wherehopelies
Summary: For Bemily Week Day 3 - In a world where ghosts haunt the darkened hours and young people are employed to dispose of them, Emily Junk is a rookie ghosthunter with the Barden Bellas, an all-girls agency. This is totally normal… what’s not normal is she’s fallen for her colleagues. Yep, that’s right. Both of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes hello there are brief mentions of death in this fic. No character deaths, but these bitches be hunting ghosts so? Ghosts be dead. Characters talk about it.  
> Also, this is a very loose Lockwood & Co AU which means if you haven't read that don't worry you can still understand 100% but if you HAVE read it... don't yell at me none of this stuff is canon accurate bc I was too lazy to look things up lol ok bye

It’s common knowledge among ghosthunters that you shouldn’t go into a haunted location without the proper equipment: flamebursts, ectobombs, or at the very _least_ silver chains.

Only rookies make that mistake.

Unfortunately for Emily, she’s a rookie.

“Uhhhh, guys!” Her eyes widen in horror as a spectral being rises out of the fireplace. “GUYS A LITTLE HELP!”

There’s a thump from upstairs and the sound of hurried footsteps, but Emily’s a little too preoccupied to think about that right now. She fumbles at her belt, thinking of how she’d taken her silver chain out of her backpack that morning to clean it and had forgotten to put it back. Oh, what an absentminded fool she is!

Her fingers manage to find a bottle of silver filings on her belt, but they shake as she pulls it from its pouch and it falls to the floor with a clatter.

Emily really hopes that’s not the sound of her death sentence.

Her body trembles with fear, and icy cold creeps into her lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

“Tell me, what do you need? Let me help you!” She pleads as the ghost drifts closer. The figure solidifies slightly, and Emily sees a young woman in a frilly dress, her hair elegantly pinned back, a dark bloodspot across her forehead.

“ _The glass…”_ The figure rasps, the voice reaching Emily in a whisper.

“What glass?” Emily asks, but the woman’s physical form shimmers. There’s a high-pitched wail that Emily recognizes as the sound specters make when they’re struggling to keep their form. Its hand reaches toward Emily and she tries to step back but she can’t. Her body’s frozen in place, her lungs heaving inside her chest.

The hand is inches from her face and she’s just standing there like a statue, alone and afraid.

_Oh God. This is how I die. At the hands of a Type 2 ghost because I wasn’t prepared. I’m not even twenty, and this is how I go?_

The ghostly fingers drift forward, and these are Emily’s last thoughts before she dies.

Or, well, they would’ve been.

“Back off dude!” A blur of silver slices through the air and there’s an agonized shriek as it makes contact with the ectoplasmic figure in front of Emily. It disperses with a ghastly screech, and thick goop splatters across her face and clothes, but she doesn’t care. Warmth immediately engulfs her entire body and she slumps against the wall, dizzy and wheezing.

Hands grab her cheeks and blue eyes pierce into hers. “Did you see where it came from?”

Emily nods and points toward the fireplace. “She said something about glass.”

“Fireplace, Bec. Look for glass.”

“Got it.”

Emily feels blood start to rush back into her cheeks under the hands cupping them, the thumbs rubbing softly over the cheekbones. “I’m fine,” she murmurs. “Totally good.”

Chloe gives her a reprimanding look. “Only because Beca got there in time. Where are your chains?”

Emily averts her eyes guiltily. “At the house...”

“Emily!” Chloe’s hands press more firmly into her cheeks, forcing Emily to meet her gaze. “That ghost almost got the drop on you. What were you thinking?”

“I took them out for cleaning,” Emily tries to argue, but it sounds feeble even to her.

“What’s the first rule of being a Bella?”

Emily frowns. “Don’t wake Beca when she’s sleeping?”

Chloe’s lips twitch like she wants to smile, but she thins them quickly, her expression remaining stern. “Never go into the location alone or without your equipment! You put not only yourself, but all of us at risk.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Her shoulders drop and she feels the beginning of tears in her eyes. “I understand if you want to kick me off the team.”

“Hey!” Beca’s voice is muffled from where she’s rummaging in the back off the fireplace. She sticks her head out and points at Emily. “We don’t want that.”

“Of course we don’t,” Chloe agrees, her hands finally releasing Emily’s cheeks. “We just want you to be more careful.”

Emily nods frantically. “I will. Promise.”

“Good,” Chloe beams, her eyes turning soft. It makes Emily’s stomach flip, the way Chloe can be so warm and inviting in places that aren’t. “Did you find the Source, Bec?”

Chloe turns and Emily peers over her shoulder just in time to see Beca crawl out of the fireplace. She’s covered in ash and dirt, but she’s smiling and holding something in her hand triumphantly.

“I think so,” she says, pushing herself off the ground. Emily and Chloe stride across the room toward her, and as they get closer, Emily sees the object is a personal mirror. Beca holds it out to Emily. “It’s broken, but... Glass.” She shrugs.

Emily holds the mirror up to see it better in the dim light coming from the candles they’d placed on the mantle when they’d first arrived at the house. Cracks streak across the middle of the glass like a web. A faint fog swirls in the glass and a chill creeps over Emily at the touch.

“Yeah, that’s the Source,” Emily nods definitively, passing the mirror over to Chloe for examination.

Chloe turns it over in her hands, studying the intricate detail of the decoration on the back. “ _From CW, with Love_ ,” Chloe reads. “I wonder who CW is.”

“Well, maybe we’d know if you’d researched this place beforehand,” Beca grumbles under her breath, but Chloe still hears it.

“Well if you wouldn’t guarantee we’d be at the location the same day the inquiry comes in, maybe I’d have more time!”

“Well, _maybe if_ …” Beca retorts, but this is when Emily tunes out, used to the two of them bickering like an old married couple after a job.

She pulls a silver-coated pouch out of her work-belt and untangles the drawstrings, cinching it open. Chloe absentmindedly drops the mirror into the pouch, still arguing with Beca about something or other, and Emily tightens the bag until it’s closed and sealed, the ghost’s Source effectively trapped until they can dispose of it at the local incinerator.

They spend a good fifteen minutes collecting their belongings, blowing out their candles, and gathering their equipment before they finally leave the house.

It’s nearing 3 AM and the streets are deserted, lit every fifty yards by a regulation ghostlamp, installed under law since the turn of the century. Emily wonders, as she always does when walking at night, what the world must have looked like after dark before the Problem began, before ghosts were not only nightly occurrences, but hadn’t even been proven to definitively exist.

 It’s hard to imagine that world, difficult to even conceive of a time when ghosts didn’t haunt the midnight hours and young people weren’t employed to risk their lives to dispose of them.

What must it have been like, before ghost-specialization companies were necessary and law required a sunset-curfew for all unlicensed adults? Before the world needed ecto-incinerators and silver-laced weapons?

Her fingers subconsciously drift to the rapier at her belt, the silver cold to the touch. Emily shivers.

She hates her stupid sword, hates anytime she has to use it. She almost never does, trying instead to use her gift of Listening to talk the specter into peace of mind, convincing it to vanish on its own instead of annihilating it into a mess of plasmic gunk.

She winces, thinking of the way it splattered over her when Beca had sliced the ghost apart.

She can’t wait to shower.

“You alright, Legacy?”

Emily shrugs as they enter the local Inspection Center and Beca falls back to wait with her while Chloe brings the Source to the incinerator. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“About your ecto-facial?”

Emily manages to laugh. “How’d you know?”

“You could say it’s all over your face.”

Emily snorts, nudging Beca with her shoulder. “That wasn’t clever.”

Beca smirks at her, eyes playful and alive the way they always are after a successful night’s work. “It was, though.” She grins up at Emily, her fingers reaching out to tug at Emily’s bangs. “Yeah, there’s plasm in your hair. That’s disgusting.”

“Thanks for that, by the way.” And Emily genuinely means it. She hates the plasm and she hates tearing souls apart with her rapier, but she likes being alive, so.

“Well,” Beca shrugs indifferently. “I’m not interested in you haunting me for not saving your ass for the fifth time.”

“Fourth time.”

Beca raises an eyebrow. “Definitely the fifth.”

“Fourth. That time at the Windsor Mine doesn’t count.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t count? You were seconds away from getting ghost-touched.”

“No, it was pointing _behind_ me. It was about to tell me why it was upset.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Legacy.”

“ _Beca_.”

“You can’t _reason_ with the ghosts.”

“Yes I can. My mom did.”

Beca eyes her thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose your mom did.”

“So why can’t I?”

“Well have you?”

Emily hesitates, her shoulders slumping. “No. Not yet.”

Beca shoots her a soft smile, all pitying and sad. “I mean. I’m sure you will. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

Beca gives her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, her face crinkling in disgust when she touches a spot of plasma. She wipes it off on her dark jeans just as Chloe comes skipping back, smiling as though she hadn’t just disposed of a deadly soul with a desire for revenge.

“Ready?” She loops her arm through Beca’s, chin jutting toward the exit, and they start to head home.

Emily walks beside them in silence, hands in her pockets, lost in her own thoughts.

//

By the time they get back, the sky has begun to lighten to the bleeding purple that occurs just before sunrise. Emily yawns as she steps over the silver-lined entrance way to the Bella house, thinking of how nice her bed is going to feel after a long, hot shower.

“Legacy, you’re alive!”

Emily jumps as she turns the corner and comes face to face with the last person she wants to see after she’s been splattered with ghost-essence and just wants to shower and sleep. “Oh. Hi, Amy.”

The she grunts as the blonde deposits a heavy set of chains into her arms.

“Found these downstairs,” Amy says, her voice taking on an exaggerated and clearly fake mournfulness. “I was sure you weren’t coming back this time. Thought I might finally get your bathroom. Shame.”

“Ames,” Beca grunts from behind them, pushing through the doorway and toward the kitchen for her post-ghost-killing breakfast. “Leave her alone.”

“Oh I’m about to.” Amy says wryly. “She smells like death. Who blew their load on you this time, freshmeat?”

Emily frowns, unsure what to say, but Chloe tsks. “Amy, don’t be crass.”

“Tough crowd this morning,” Amy grumbles, but she thankfully lets Emily pass by and up the stairs without further comment.

She immediately throws her clothes in the laundry and gets in the shower, turning the temperature up so high it nearly scalds her. Her skin turns red from her obsessive scrubbing as she desperately tries to wipe the plasm off of her, and she spends a good five minutes under the heat of the water trying not to cry.

(Okay, she cries a little. Showers are just a really good place for a breakdown okay?)

Finally she gets out and towels off, pulling her pajamas on and combing her now plasm-free hair. As she makes her way out of the bathroom and down the hall toward her room, she passes the wall of former Bellas, each girl immortalized in a frame on the wall.

Emily hovers in front of the picture of her mother. She’s probably looked at it a hundred times, admiring the official Bella seal in the corner, the eyes that look so similar to her own.

She’s always felt proud to be a Legacy, to walk the same prestigious halls her mother once had. It made her feel special.

But now she feels something else. Something like disappointment and resentment. Her mom had been famous, one of the only people in existence to speak in full conversations with ghosts. She’d been able to understand them, seek out what they wanted, and fulfilled their tortured wishes so that they finally felt at peace and moved on without anyone lifting even an ounce of silver in their direction.

She’d been a legend, one of the most sought after ghosthunters in the area until the day she’d been ghost-touched.

Her death was a mystery. Her partner had said she had been speaking with the ghost, had given no indication she was in danger at all, and all of a sudden she had fallen to the floor, ghost-touched. They’d rushed her to the nearest Neutralization Zone, but she was already gone.

Emily had been just two years old when it had happened, so she doesn’t really remember her mom, just knows about her from Bella legend and old stories. As she’d grown older, she’d developed the same keen sense for Listening as her mother had, but unlike her mom, she hasn’t been able to breach the boundary between the desperate last wishes of specters and full-fledged conversation.

Not that it stopped her from trying, but she’d made no headway on achieving her mom’s successes. In fact, her efforts had so far been useful only in locating a ghost’s Source, and had actually put her and her team in danger more often than not.

If only her mom were still here to pass on what she knew, then maybe Emily would be better.

Steps on the landing disrupt her thoughts and she turns to see her two colleagues appear in the hallway hand in hand. They both smile when they notice Emily standing there.

“Glad to see you got that plasm out of your hair,” Beca smirks as she gets closer.

“Yep,” Emily nods. “All clean!”

“Hmm.” Chloe gives a sniff. “You smell delicious. What’s your soap?”

Beca snorts before Emily can reply. “Dude. You can’t just sniff people.”

“Emily isn’t people,” Chloe replies, leaning in closer. Her nose touches Emily’s hair. Then she kisses her cheek and leans back with a giggle. “She’s Emily.”

Emily feels heat rush through her whole body and she meets Beca’s gaze, wide-eyed and bashful, shaking her head in a daze. “Uhhh.”

“Aw, babe you broke her,” Beca laughs and Chloe just smiles wider. She gives Emily a pat on the butt and continues down the hall.

“Goodnight, Em,” she calls over her shoulder.

“Goodnight,” Emily responds, but her voice comes out so soft she’s not sure Chloe heard her. Beca’s still standing there, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry,” Beca says, glancing the way Chloe went. “She has that effect on everyone.”

Emily laughs. “Not you.”

Beca’s lips twist like she’s holding back a smile. “Especially me.” Then she looks up at the wall, seeing the picture Emily’s standing in front of. She hums thoughtfully. “You should look in the library downstairs. Maybe she left a journal or something.”

“Maybe.” Emily stares back at the picture of her mother.

“Hey,” Beca says, her voice growing uncharacteristically soft. “She’d be proud of you, following in her footsteps and everything.”

Emily wants to agree, let Beca get on to bed, but she feels the tears that overcame her in the shower start to creep back up. “What if I never do what she was able to do?”

Beca is silent for a long moment, then she shrugs. “Then you don’t. So what? You’re still here. You’re doing what you can. You’re not her. You’re you.”

“Everyone here expects me to live up to her legacy.”

“I don’t,” Beca insists. “I don’t give a fuck about any of that, I just don’t want us to, like, die, dude.”

Emily lets out a chuckle, her throat wet. “Well, so far so good. Barely.”

“Damn straight.” Beca nudges her with her elbow. “So like, chin up, dude.”

“Yeah,” Emily half-heartedly agrees. “Okay.”

Beca gives her one last smile before turning down the hall. “Night, then.”

“Do you think it’s weird we say goodnight when it’s actually morning?”

Beca laughs, already a few steps away. “I think everything about this life is weird as fuck. Ghosts? Like what is _that_ about?”

And then she disappears into her and Chloe’s room, the door shutting behind her.

Emily lingers for another moment, thinking of everything that happened that night. Then she follows her partner’s lead and heads to bed, where she falls into a very deep and dreamless sleep.

//

So, yeah, she should probably explain the whole ghost deal.

The first known definitive instance relating to the Problem was in the 1970s. Sure, ghosts had been “seen” before that, but believers were widely considered to be either crazy or seeing things. Then in the 70s, a plethora of ghost-sightings began all over the world. In 1975, the first recorded ghost-touch occurred when a man entered into a supposed haunted location and was physically touched by a visible specter.

The neutralization procedures in place today hadn’t existed at the time, and the man died shortly after.

Then it seemed, all hell broke loose. Perhaps literally. Ghosts became a common nighttime presence. Studies surrounding haunted lore gained credibility, companies began researching proper protection and hunting techniques, and when it was discovered that silver was the key ingredient in fending off ghosts, the industry became the most successful in the world.

Hunting ghosts became a priority, but it was soon discovered that ghost-sensing abilities weakened with age. People under thirty were now in high demand, and hordes of children, teens, and young adults suddenly found a place in society that commanded respect. Ghost hunting companies sprang from thin air, and many employed children as young as ten years old.

The Barden Bellas were one such company. Established in the 80s in the Barden area, the Bellas were the result of a local company that insisted only men were capable of hunting ghosts. In response, a group of women formed the Barden Bellas to prove them wrong, and they quickly became the most reputable agency in the area, a legacy that thrives to this day.

Emily’s mom had been a Bella and now Emily is, too.

She’d been properly trained, learned how to use her Listening skills, and placed on a team. Beca and Chloe have always been welcoming and Emily really appreciates them. They’d needed a Listener, and Emily is doing her best to not let them down. It’s just hard because she’s not sure she’s on their level.

Beca is fearless in the face of ghosts. Calm, cool, and collected, she wields her silver rapier like an extension of her hand, darting between specters with a flick of her wrist. She’s always the first one into a location and the last one to leave the danger. They don’t really have a designated leader, but if they did, it would be Beca.

Chloe’s not quite as skilled or level-headed, but she makes up for it with preparedness. While some teams prefer to enter a location and use their instincts blindly, Chloe will spend as much as time as possible in the library beforehand researching the area and its past. On more than one occasion, knowing what’s likely haunting the place has saved their skins, allowing them to find a ghost’s Source quickly and neutralize it.

Beca and Chloe are the perfect teammates, the perfect balance between gutsy and tactical, instinctual and prepared.

Emily’s not really sure where she fits in.

//

In her time as a Bella, Emily’s learned her there are two types of ghosthunters.

Beca is the first type, the kind that rushes head first into a fight and doesn’t really question it. Her job is to dispose of ghosts, so that’s what she does.

Chloe is the second type, the kind who wants to understand the Problem, figure out why ghosts suddenly started to inhabit this physical plane. What do they want? Where do they go _after_? What are they made of? What happens when you destroy them?

Emily is probably somewhere in the middle.

She’s hesitant to rush in, and she knows the key to what her mother had achieved was to talk to the ghosts and learn about them, but she also doesn’t really like to philosophize about it so much, especially when a ghost’s just been destroyed and its essence is all over her clothes and face.

Like, yuck.

But still. She wants to be the best she can be, wants to cement her place as a worthwhile member of the Bellas. So she spends as much time learning from her partners as she can, trying to ask the right questions and fine tune her techniques.

She practices swordsmanship with Beca. She spends time researching with Chloe.

She integrates herself fully into her team.

And she discovers that while many weird things come up in the ghost-hunting profession, the most confusing one she’s experienced so far is falling in love with her teammates.

Both of them.

At the same time.

Like, just… Great.

//

Oh, and did she mention? They’ve been dating each other for four years.

Just her luck.

//

Emily wakes up around noon the next morning with her stomach grumbling.

When she heads down to the kitchen, she finds it uncharacteristically empty, neither of her partners nor any other Bellas in sight. She yawns and grabs the box of Lucky Charms from her team’s designated cupboard, forgoing a bowl and just stuffing her fingers in to grab a handful of dry cereal. She slumps into a chair at the table, munching on marshmallows and zoning out.

She’s just thinking maybe she should get some practice in with her rapier later when she hears the telltale sign of the front door opening and closing and brisk footsteps. She turns her head in time to see Chloe burst into the kitchen.

“Emily! Good you’re up. Where’s Beca?”

Emily shrugs. “Haven’t seen her.”

“Still sleeping then. Oh well. Look!” Chloe bustles over to the table and dramatically drops a file folder in front of Emily.

“Um.” Emily blinks down at the folder and reluctantly stuffs her handful of Lucky Charms into her mouth so she has a free hand to open it. Inside is a bunch of copies of article clippings about a woman named Cecilia Windsor. “Am I supposed to know this person?”

Chloe practically vibrates in excitement. “It’s CW! From the mirror.”

“The ghost we incinerated last night?”

“Well, no, her initials were on the Source of the ghost we incinerated last night.” Chloe flips through the pages, spreading them out in front of Emily. “I got up early and went to the library. There’s this whole conspiracy revolving around the place we went to last night.”

Emily frowns. “A… conspiracy?”

“Yes! Apparently it was this whole thing. See, the woman who used to live in the house, and likely the ghost we saw last night, was named Margaret Lansing. She committed suicide in 1846.”

“Okay… and why is that a conspiracy?”

Chloe grins. “Wait for it. Cecilia’s dad was Wilbur Windsor, like from the Windsor Mine.”

Emily’s mouth drops. “Wait a second…”

“YES. He’s definitely that ghost we got at Windsor Mine last month.”

“Oh my God…”

“These clippings,” Chloe shuffles through them until she pulls one out with the headline _Windsor Mine Tragedy - Accident or Family Murder?_ out of the pile, “tell a very interesting story about a family dispute between the Windsors. Many speculated that Cecilia killed her father. In that article, they theorize that it was a plot by Cecilia and Richard Nottingham, aka her husband and Wilbur’s Chief of Finance, to inherit the land and family fortune.

“However,” now Chloe pulls out a very small newspaper clipping. “This clipping is from a non-reputable source, sort of like the gossip rag at the time. And it says that Cecilia killed Wilbur because he _forced_ her to marry Richard Nottingham when he discovered she was having a secret affair. Clearly Cecilia didn’t like that because she obviously loved Margaret! The mirror said _From CW, with love_. So boom! She murdered her father to be with Margaret.”

Emily hums thoughtfully. “Then why did Margaret commit suicide?”

“Because shortly after Wilbur died, Cecilia was murdered! She and Richard were attacked in their home. The murderer got away and they never found him. Richard lived through the attack and it’s said he claimed very loudly and publicly that if he ever saw the man who killed his wife, vengeance would be his.”

“Wait, so they were still married?” Emily furrows her eyebrows. “But then how could Cecilia be with Margaret?”

Chloe pauses, her fingers still on the pile of clippings. “Well, there’s nothing about that, but maybe they had some sort of arrangement, like her father was dead, so Richard was going to inherit the mine and the fortune. Cecilia was free to secretly be with Margaret while still being married to Richard for status, and Richard got the estate and all the money.”

Emily grins. “Oh, Rich was rich, then?”

Chloe beams at her, a laugh escaping her throat. “Yeah! It’s a perfect fit.”

“Well,” Emily hesitates. “I don’t know about that. It’s a lot of speculation. It doesn’t seem to quite add up.”

“What doesn’t add up?”

Emily and Chloe both turn to see Beca shuffling into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and yawning.

“Bec, listen to this…” As Chloe goes through the whole conspiracy again, Beca sips on some coffee, her face growing more and more skeptical.

When Chloe’s finished, Beca isn’t impressed. “I dunno, I’m with the Legacy. It doesn’t add up.”

“Yes it does! What doesn’t?”

Beca exchanges a glance with Emily, who shrugs. “There is literally no link between Margaret and Cecilia. Like, how did you even make that jump?”

“Well, Cecilia’s murder was _the day before_ Margaret’s suicide. She was still all over the papers the day of Margaret’s death notice. That’s what drew my attention to it. She was front page. The initials _CW_ were literally right there. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“Why not?”

“Really? A secret lover with the initials CW, the same on Margaret’s mirror, the woman who committed suicide, and she kills herself just _one day_ after?”

Beca shrugs, still sipping her coffee. “I mean, yeah it’s strange. But first, you said that source was basically a gossip column, and second, people were having secret affairs all the time back then. It could be anyone, _if_ it’s even someone, which it probably wasn’t.”

Chloe isn’t deterred. “Then who _else_ would CW be?”

“Well, who knows. You’re forcing Cecilia’s story to fit Margaret’s because you saw it on the front page. CW could be anyone in Margaret’s life. How far did you get in researching _that_? Or did you just run away with the Windsor thing?”

“Well…” Chloe pouts. “Fine. I made the connection and then didn’t look up anything else about Margaret. But it fits!”

“Sweetie…” Beca frowns. “You’re reaching.”

Chloe huffs. “Maybe.”

“Well, either way,” Beca shrugs. “It doesn’t matter because we incinerated Margaret’s Source _and_ we disposed of Wilbur’s ghost weeks ago, so. What’s done is done.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Chloe goes uncharacteristically silent, staring out the window in that thoughtful way she gets when she’s contemplating something interesting. Emily’s seen it on her face a million times after reading a particularly philosophical piece of research about the Problem.

“It was a good theory,” she says quietly and Chloe gives a soft smile. “Morbid… but good.”

Beca snorts. “Everything in this profession is morbid.” She downs the last of her coffee. “Well, I’m gonna put in some sword work. Em? You wanna come.”

Emily looks back at Chloe who shoos her away with a grin. “I’m fine, go ahead. I’m gonna see if Jessica and Ashley have any open cases they need help with. You go on. Have fun.”

She gives Emily’s shoulder a squeeze and grabs the box of Lucky Charms, settling more comfortably into the chair at the table and pulling her file folder closer. Emily gives her one last look before heading off to the training room with Beca, where she promptly gets her butt kicked into the next plane.

Well not literally.

But you know what she means.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Emily knows Chloe’s right, knows a Ghost-Touch like that doesn’t fatally kill for at least three hours, but her heart is still pounding. Beca may be little, but she’s always seemed larger than life to Emily, untouchable and brave in the face of Literal Death. But now… her body looks so thin, her skin so pale. She squeezes her hand harder, hoping to give Beca back the strength she’s always given to her."

“Do you think something’s going on with Chloe,” Beca whispers to her the next week as they’re setting out candles at the location of their most recent inquiry.

Emily glances over her shoulder, but Chloe’s left the room. Emily can faintly hear her humming from up the stairs.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s that case from last week,” Beca says. “She’s obsessed with it.”

Emily _has_ noticed that Chloe’s been carrying that file folder with her everywhere, and it’s seemed to grow thicker as the days progress. Chloe’s been spending an unusual amount of time at the library, even for her.

“I guess,” Emily shrugs. “I mean, she’s interested in it. You know how she is. She wants to know the reasons _why_.”

She starts taking her silver chains out of her backpack and making a circle in the middle of the room, just in case they need a quick barrier to protect them. Beca helps, easing the chains out as far as they can go.

“I know,” Beca murmurs. “It’s just... this one seems to be especially sitting with her. I mean, it’s over now, I don’t get it.”

“Well did you ask her about it?”

Beca shoots her a look. “No? What am I gonna be like? ‘Hey Chlo, just wondering if you were traumatized or emotionally attached to a random ghost? Let me know.’”

“Why not?”

Beca opens her mouth to respond, but Chloe shouts down to them from upstairs.

“Guys? I think I’ve found something!”

They glance at each other at Chloe’s excited shout and rush up the stairs. Emily holds her flashlight in front of her, knowing Chloe probably isn’t face to face with a ghost from her tone, but not really trusting anything else to not be in a dark and damp old house.

She may fight ghosts, but that doesn’t make spiders any less scary, either.

Chloe stands at the top of the landing, beaming at them and dangling an old-fashioned pocketwatch from its chain.

“Source material?” Chloe asks.

“Dude, how’d you find that?” Beca takes the watch from Chloe, and Emily watches as her face turns from skeptic to impressed. She passes it over to Emily, who cringes at the unnatural cold that sweeps over her.

Chloe just grins. “There was a double murder here, actually. Twin brothers. They shot each other over an inheritance dispute and the papers said one was found in the closet after crawling there in his final moments. I was searching around in that area and saw this. I don’t know why the current owners didn’t dispose of it… it was on the top shelf.”

“Interesting.” Beca takes the watch back from Emily and bags it in a silver pouch. “Well. Guess we’re done here then. I’m not sure we’ve ever solved a case without even seeing the ghost. Great job, Chlo.”

Chloe grins, rocking back and forth on her feet. “See, research saves the day again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Beca rolls her eyes, but laughs.

They start about the house collecting all the sensors they’d spent the last two hours assembling and spreading out. Emily takes the basement, Chloe the upstairs, and Beca the main floor.

She’s just blowing out the last candle next to an old shelving unit when she sees it - a faint, barely-there glow of blue light reflected behind her in the window.

Terror seizes her and she spins around.

There’s a loud POP and a gust of air as the being disappears, but she had just enough time to glimpse what it was - a Roamer, or a ghost that can pop in and out of a location until its Source is neutralized.

Emily doesn’t get it… they’d put the Source in silver. How could this be?

“GHOST!” She calls, already sprinting up the stairs and pulling out her rapier as she goes.

Oh no oh no oh no. Why did they let their guards down?

Another POP shakes the air as Emily bursts onto the main level, and there’s a loud screech from the family room. Chloe appears at the top of the stairs and hurries down as Emily rushes into the family room.

Beca’s got her rapier in front of her face, slashing through the air.

There’s another loud POP and the ghost disappears, just as Beca’s sword slices through the spot its head had just been.

“What the hell?” Beca screams. “Thought we neutralized it.”

“I don’t know!” Chloe calls back, swirling around with her own sword out, looking for the ghost.

“Twins!” Emily pants out. “Double murder.”

There’s another POP and the ghost flickers into view right behind Chloe. She spins around, rapier swinging. It whizzes past the ghost, who has now solidified enough for her to see it’s a man with a thick beard.

“Hey bozo!” Emily shouts. “Killing your brother wasn’t enough? You need to murder us, too?”

The ghosts turns on her and she gulps, brandishing her sword in front of her. She quickly pushes Chloe into her circle of silver chains, still set up in the middle of the room. Behind the ghost, a light flares.

“ECTOBOMB! INCOMING!”

Beca lobs a bright purple canister toward the ghost and Emily slams down on the ground, covering her head with her arms. There’s an explosion of light and a screech - and then silence.

She carefully lifts her head, glancing around. Her stomach rolls at the sight of plasma splattered on the walls, the goo already slowly easing back towards itself to reform. It’s not long before the ghost will rematerialize.

“The Source! Where’s the Source?”

Emily rushes back down to the basement, her flashlight shaking in her hand. Where had the ghost appeared?

She searches the floor opposite the window she’d seen the ghosts reflection in, but sees nothing. There’s a long abandoned wooden desk and she flings open all the drawers, but they’re empty.

“Emily! Hurry!”

The sound of silver clanging against something metallic rings from the floor above her and she quickens her pace, helplessly looking around. Could it be hidden within the walls of the house? Under the floorboards?

In her desperation, she pulls too hard on the desk drawer and it comes off its wheel-rack.

“Oomph.” She just barely moves her foot out of the way to avoid crushing it. The drawer slams into the floor and a large crack appears in the wood.

Emily furrows her eyebrows and leans forward. Something glistens in the crack.

“EMILY!”

She panics and jams her foot into the weakened wood, widening the hole and revealing what must have been a false bottom to the drawer. Inside, a long hunting knife reflects the beam of her flashlight back at her. She grabs the knife, shivering at the icy cold fog that suddenly fills her. There’s a scream from upstairs and her fingers shake as she pulls one of her silver pouches out and drops the knife in.

The freezing air emanating from the entire house suddenly disappears as the clasps cinch around the opening.

Emily sprints back upstairs, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead.  “I found it,” she wheezes as she bursts into the living room. “I got the Source.”

She stops in her tracks, the words almost getting caught in her throat.

Chloe’s holding Beca in her arms, tears streaming down her face. Beca’s lying half in the circle of chains and half out, her legs bent underneath her. There’s a small pinprick, an echo of ectoplasmic blue on her arm, and her lips have gone white.

“QUICK!” Chloe chokes out. “Call it in!”

Emily fumbles for her phone in her belt, dialing the Neutralization Operators. She can barely get the location out, but she hears sirens in the distance.

“I’m fine, you guys,” Beca whispers. She shoots Chloe a dazed smirk. “It was like, the smallest Ghost-Touch ever. I’ve got hours.”

“Shut up,” Chloe hisses as Emily drops down beside Beca and grabs her other hand.

“What happened?” Emily asks, her eyes-wide. Beca looks so… small.

Beca’s gaze flicks over to Emily. “Saved _her_ this time, Legacy. She’s catching up to you.”

Chloe huffs. “You absolute dumbass. I was safe in the chains, Emily pushed me in before she ran downstairs. _I_ was grabbing _you_. To pull you in.”

“Oh,” Beca frowns, her voice faint. “I thought you were reaching for help.”

Chloe looks up at Emily. “She turned her back and the ghost grazed her as it reformed.”

The sirens are getting louder outside and Beca laughs, but it comes out as a throaty exhale. “Well they’re almost here. I’m gonna be fine.”

Emily knows she’s right, knows a Ghost-Touch like that doesn’t fatally kill for at least three hours, but her heart is still pounding. Beca may be little, but she’s always seemed larger than life to Emily, untouchable and brave in the face of Literal Death.

But now… her body looks so thin, her skin so pale.

She squeezes her hand harder, hoping to give Beca back the strength she’s always given to her.

The cacophony of sirens grows impossibly loud outside, and a minute later, four EMTs rush in, their specialty Neutralization badges on full display on their chests.

“Clear away,” one of them demands urgently.

Emily scoots back and watches as Chloe does the same. The men stabilize Beca on a stretcher and administer a Neutralization shot.

“She’s going to be fine, but she’ll need overnight observation,” the captain says to Chloe. Chloe exchanges information with them about where they’re going and Beca feebly waves at them from her stretcher as they carry her away.

And then it’s just them, in this silent, old house, the leftover stain of ectoplasm on the walls.

Chloe’s staring at the front door Beca disappeared through, quiet and still. Emily tentatively reaches out for her and Chloe spins into her arms, burying her face in Emily’s neck.

“I hate that impulsive, heroic, stupid, stupid martyr,” Chloe grumbles, her body shaking with tears and fury. “She has no fear whatsoever. She has a damn death wish, and then what? We’ll be here without her.”

Emily rubs Chloe’s back. “She’s going to be okay.”

She lets Chloe cry some more and then they finish packing up their things and grabbing all their backpacks. Emily slings Beca’s over her shoulder next to her own.

Neutralization protocol doesn’t allow visitors in the Neutralization centers so they go back to the Bella house, the two of them dragging their feet and lost in their own thoughts, worry for Beca eating away inside them.

When they get back, the house is silent. Either everyone is sleeping or out on a job.

Emily makes Chloe some tea and goes to put their equipment away while Chloe changes. She brings it up to Chloe and Beca’s room, knocking quietly before entering.

“Chloe?” Emily pouts when she sees Chloe curled around herself, her eyes wet. “I brought you some tea.”

Chloe sits up and wipes her cheeks. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that, Em.”

“I wanted to,” Emily hums, easing down onto the edge of the bed and passing Chloe the warm mug. Chloe leans her head on Emily’s shoulder.

“I don’t know why I keep crying. I know she’s fine.”

Emily steadies herself so Chloe can sink into her comfortably. “It’s still scary. And it sucks when we can’t see her.”

Chloe nods, sniffling some more. She takes a sip of tea and exhales a deep sigh. “I’m glad you’re here,” Chloe whispers. Emily’s heart clenches.

“Me too.”

They sit in silence for a while, Chloe sipping on her tea and the two of them just breathing into the room, thoughtful and together. Finally Chloe sets the empty mug down on her bedside table and curls under the covers. Emily hesitates, unsure if Chloe wants her to stay or leave, but then Chloe’s pulling on her arm and tugging her down onto the pillow.

Emily wraps herself around Chloe’s body, her legs sliding against Chloe’s and her arm falling over her body. Chloe grabs Emily’s hand, tangling their fingers and resting them on the sheets.

Emily exhales into Chloe’s hair, her nose settling behind Chloe’s ear.

Just as the sun is beginning to rise outside the window, they both slip quietly into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when will i update this again??? who knows. thanks for reading

**Author's Note:**

> there is more of this coming but i wanted to publish something for bemily week for this day so... you get this unfinished stuff. I will publish more soon if you are still interested in reading.  
> hmu at emilyjunk.tumblr.com thank you for reading!!!!


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